


what a sight for sore eyes

by siaaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Kissing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pansy is the best, Promise, Song: Heather (Conan Gray), Songfic, This is Bad, Tutoring, Unrequited Love, but not, draco is bad at defense, feelings are hard, for once, ginny is NOT villianized, ginny is kind, harry has confidence, harry is bad at potions, it gets better tho, its complicated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siaaa/pseuds/siaaa
Summary: loosely based on "heather" by conan gray. i think that's all the information needed.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. i still remember the third of december, me in your sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and so it begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is very loosely based upon the song ‘heather’ by conan gray. i’m a sad writer and honestly tried not to make this too sad, so bear with me as i try to create fake happiness :) 
> 
> an apology: there is very little ‘british slang’ in this fic. i am so american it’s disgusting. if someone whos from anywhere in the u.k. or if you’re super versed in british slang, please comment. i’d absolutely adore for you to go through this, adding slang to make it feel more intune with the harry potter verse. 
> 
> a quick heads up: i have read hundreds of other drarry fics, as such, there are a multitude of plot points that i may have accidentally taken.. linked onto the bottom of this chapter is a list of a fics in which i remember hearing about these plot points & i take a significant amount of inspiration from. however, if you see something in the fic that you recognize from your own writing, don’t hesitate to shoot me a message on my tumblr @sincerely-sia. i have no qualms about adding to the list :) 
> 
> this is the first of many parts. because the chapters are short, i may think about combining the whole story into one long chapter to make it easier. 
> 
> drop some comments to let me know what you think <3, i think i’d scream if you did so. 
> 
> first three chapters are un-beta'ed

They weren’t supposed to be friends. Not at all actually. A death eater & The Boy Who Lived (twice)? absolutely forbidden. However, as Hogwarts would have, it pushed them together, but not long after, the world intervened, and the results of its intrusion have yet to be seen.

The little sparkle in Harry’s eyes when he casts a spell, the lip bite when he struggles with a potion, it was all the little things. It hadn’t started out that way. At first, Potter's fidgets in class and muted groans after a failed spell felt like spiders crawling up Draco's spine; he wanted to swat them away, and when he couldn’t, the anger grew. It was rare that he would speak on these feelings; he feared the wrath of the entire Gryffindor house, not willing to submit himself to anything more than glares and shoulder shoves in the halls. 

In the end, it took a broken nose and a burnt face to bring the two boys together.

*** * ***

“Argh!”

Harry slices his finger with the knife and blood begins to leak from the shallow wound. Ron glances over at him before tossing the recently chopped beetroots into the cauldron. Wincing, Harry picks up his wand and touches it to his finger, closing the wound with a quick spell. It’s then he realizes that the roots he’d been cutting his knife were bloodied, and then thrown into the cauldron. He leans over the cauldron, face above the fumes as if to see the roots thrown in. He breathes into the pot. Harry feels almost responsible for what happens next. 

The red liquid explodes upwards, covering Harry’s face. His hands immediately fly upwards, trying to get the burning position off his face. Ron and Hermione are beside him instantly, smart enough not to touch him or throw spells, but muttering words of support as Harry shakes.

“Bloody hell, Harry, don’t die on me now,” Ron murmurs in Harry's ear, prompting a smile from the struggling boy.

“Mr. Potter! What have you done?” Slughorn exclaims as he hurries over, wand out of his robes, and points it at Harry. He makes a few slashing movements with it, and the boiling liquid vanishes from Harry's face, leaving only burn marks. The ruined skin sits above Harry’s cheekbones and around his lips, dug into his cheeks and forehead, the skin red and tender. his brown skin is wrinkled and already itchy. 

Harry reaches up to touch it, “Merlin, that hurt,” he says, eyes wide and adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

“Well obviously, Harry! A boiling potion exploded in your face! Why can’t you ever be more careful!” Hermione has a worried look on her face, berating him. 

Harry feels an iota of shame and resigns himself to an even worse scolding from Madam Pomfrey. 

"Hmm, Harry. once you get looked at by Pomfrey, please come speak to me,” Slughorn says, looking at Harry with those worried eyes that every adult had given him throughout his time at Hogwarts; the pity mixed with worry for Harry's mental state. 

“I… ” 

Harry goes to argue: he really doesn't want to see Pomfrey. 

“Shush, Harry,” Hermione interrupts, “Pomfrey’s going to take a look at you. Let’s go. Professor Slughorn, do you mind if I take Harry down to the Hospital Wing?” 

“Sure, Hermione.” 

She grabs Harry's arm & bag and takes him towards the door. Harry glances back and sees Ron watching him worriedly, Ginny giggling with her seventh-year friends, and the Slytherins not even looking his way, save for Malfoy. Malfoy watches him with wide eyes, skin remarkably paler than usual, but as soon as they make eye contact, Malfoy glances away. Harry's confused but turns back to Hermione, listening to her berate him as she drags him out into the halls. Nothing’s changed. Six years of potions blunders, of Hermione's berating, and then he’d gone and died, and still, nothing has changed. not a single thing. He hates it.

*** * ***

The room immediately erupts into whispers as Granger leads Potter out of the Potions classroom.

“How did he defeat the Dark Lord if he can’t even make a simple potion?” Pansy whispers harshly at his side. She continues to mutter in Draco’s ear as he chops his own beetroots. He rolls his eyes at her, “You’re just jealous because he won’t speak to you after you botched your apology.” 

She scoffs at him, “coming from you? Who followed him around for 6 years? That’s rich Draco.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Draco says, refusing to look at his friend

“Are we talking about Draco’s obsession with Potter, again?” Blaise swings his arm over Draco’s shoulder, his dark skin a beautiful contrast with Draco’s pale complexion. 

Draco rolls his eyes, “there is _no_ obsession. he ripped me to pieces, then saved my life…” “saved _all_ of our lives,” he corrects, “can we _please_ move on from this?” Draco whines a little, tired of the constant harry potter talk.

Pansy smirks a little, “why of course we can.” 

“Only if you can,” Blaise reminds, dragging his knuckles through Draco’s platinum hair, ruffling the thin strands. 

*** * ***

The day only seems to get worse, dueling the foremost task in Defense, Draco's _least_ favorite activity. Although he was terrific at Charms, at Transfiguration, and at Potions, since the end of the war, Draco couldn’t get a hold on any spells in Defense Against the Dark Arts. (he presumed it was because Draco could never have any defense against the dark arts, it was too prominent in his bones) (Pansy promised he was wrong). 

“Class! Split up, each house in one corner.” The defense professor orders, a tall, scarred man from Spain, his accent thick. Professor Vargas was… difficult. He had little patience for students with attitude, and students with any connection to the Dark Arts, so Draco was immediately branded as his least favorite, and Potter? The favorite. 

Potter had been healed by Pomfrey and sent back to class, and looks excited to be in the one class he excels at. 

“Okay. Li & Thomas, Longbottom & Macmillan,” Vargas rattles off pairings, making sure to choose people from different houses. This year, only 16 Eighth years had come back. Some classes, like Potions, they were grouped with the Seventh years, but others, like DADA, it was just them. 

Draco waits for his name, head tilted as he watches Pansy be paired (with Granger), and then Blaise (with Smith), and finally, “Malfoy and Weasley!” Vargas orders. Draco watches as Weasley groans, and Potter pats him on the back before joining his own partner. 

“Malfoy, let’s go,” Weasley calls, gesturing for the other to join him at the mat. Draco trudges over, he didn’t think he’d had a single conversation with Weasley since the year began. 

“Dueling forms!” Vargas yells, Draco shifts in position, “go!” 

Weasley sends the first spell, it’s fiery and aggressive. Draco throws a Protego to halt it and can feel the wrath of Professor Vargas already on him, “Malfoy! use the counterspell, not Protego!” 

Draco nods hurriedly, and slashes his wand, calling out the next offensive spell. Weasley blocks it with ease and shoots back another. Draco stumbles backward, but manages to give a weak defensive spell, Weasley shoots another, and another, expecting Draco to counteract properly because of his skill in charms. Draco cannot. he throws up another Protego, the spell not strong enough to fully defend against Weasley's. 

“Argh,” Draco groans as he is thrown forward from the force of Weasley’s spell interacting with his own. 

“Malfoy!” Weasley shouts as he sees the blond boy fall face-first onto the hardwood floor, missing the mat by inches. Blood spurts from Draco’s nose as he slowly sits back up, pale face flushed a deep red in shame. Professor Vargas looks down at him, disappointed at his lackluster performance. 

“It’s probably broken. Go down to the hospital wing,” Vargas waves a hand in Draco's direction, staunching the blood flow. Draco feels the class’s eyes upon him, Pansy chewing her lip in worry, and Blaise’s bemusement. 

“I’ll take him!” Pansy cries softly, wrapping a manicured hand around Draco’s bicep. He keeps one hand on his nose as it aches, and shoots an angry look at Weasley. The other student raises his hands, “Hey! It’s not my fault. I didn’t know you were this _bad_ at defense!” Weasley says, imminently denying any fault of his. 

“Come back after class tomorrow. I’d like to speak to you, now go,” Vargas orders, then turns his back to Draco, attention on the other students. Draco stands slowly, and with Pansy makes his way through the classroom and out the door, sparing a cursory glance behind him. The class seems to already have moved on, Weasley absorbed into Potter’s group. Potter turns to look at him, and they make eye contact, the connect searing into Draco. He hurriedly breaks it and spins back around, intent on leaving the classroom without making another scene. 

“Merlin, Pansy, that was embarrassing,” he mutters. 

She giggles, “it sure was!” 


	2. you said it looked better on me than it did you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who’s harry potter in this world?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and another one! it's short too, and a little earlier than i thought i'd post it! woooo

The first month back at Hogwarts was the worst. Harry didn’t know his place in the castle: was he the hero that every student in the castle looked up to? Was he supposed to be scary? Was he supposed to corral the children? Prove that Dumbledore was right about him? That he _was_ the hero? But Harry was simply a powerful eighth year, terrifyingly terrible at Potions, and unmatched in Defense. Some days he was ordinary, and other days he felt like the most important person in the wizarding world.

Girls flocked to him (and so did some boys), but Ginny was always in the back of his mind, her smiling face a comfort not always awarded to him. Although they were still on their pre-war/mid-war/post-war break, Harry knew she would always be there for him, would always be the kind eyes that centered him on his worst days. Meanwhile, Ginny was pushing him to date outside of his own head, go out with girls, maybe even some boys, to really _learn_ about himself.

Harry was stubborn. He didn’t _want_ to meet other girls. He didn’t _want_ to leave the comfort of Ginny’s pretty red hair in his head, but the day had come where Ginny, too, wanted to move on and move forward.

“Harry. We both need to learn about ourselves! I’m just 17, and you’re 18. There are _so_ many people out there to teach us about everything. I love you, and I know you love me, but how can we know we’re the best for each other when you’ve never experienced otherwise?”

She was kind, loving, and the perfect person to break Harry’s heart. He loved her all the more for it.

It took two weeks for Harry to realize that there wasn’t a lack of girls pining after him. Every corner he turned, there was another girl, big eyes watching his every move.

“Hey. Li? Su Li? Is that you?” Harry watched as the pretty girl in the back of the bookstacks stood from her cross-legged position, her face obscured by a sheet of dark hair. She pushes back the strands and smiles toothily at Harry, albeit a little taken aback that he’s spoken to her. Harry Potter had always been _that_ kid in the back of the potions class, playing pranks with his friends, and going on unimaginable adventures. He’d disappeared last year, and come back unaware of the atrocities that had occurred in the castle; Su still couldn’t feel her toes from the curses lashed at her, and the scars that lined her arms and back still burned in the cold.

“Potter! Harry? How are you?” she says, hands clutching the fat book in her hands.

“Harry’s fine,” he says, smiling, trying to put the girl at ease, “what are you reading?”

Su looks down at the book and back up at the most famous person in this castle, “why?”

This time Harry’s taken aback. He hadn’t expected a response like that, rather just a clear answer. Weren’t girls supposed to be easy to talk to? Granted, Hermione never was, but Ginny had always been like refreshing water after a dry day.

“I… I was just asking?”

“Is this because you broke up with Ginny?” Su Li asked, her eyes narrowing. Although she’d been shy all her life, the scars on her back had left her with anger and no lack of confidence in her worth.

“Yes? I just, I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Because…?”

Harry’s almost without words, scrambling for an answer.

“Because you’re pretty, and I’d like to get to know you,” he responds, relishing the pretty pink blush that spreads over Su’s cheeks.

She smiles a little, won over, and sits back down, patting the ground beside her, “come, I’ll tell you what I’m reading about.”

The rest of the afternoon goes much like this: Harry laughs, he smiles and jokes, Su’s smitten and charmed, and it doesn’t take long for Harry’s hands in her hair and hers in his shirt.

After that, Harry’s confidence around girls, _yes Hermione, they’re women, not girls_ , seems to skyrocket. He throws them easy smiles, shoulders relaxed as the school seems to breathe in tune with him. Two years ago, the girls’ eyes would’ve felt like danger, like they burned holes in his skin, but now, he relishes in it. All it means is he’s safe, he’s cherished, he’s _wanted_.

Harry flips through girls like he’s trying to check off the Hogwarts student roster. But he’s kind about it, he’s never been anything but. Every girl knows that if Harry Potter approaches them, they get his memorizing attention for as long as they can keep it. The girls try hard, they try oh so hard, but Harry’s on top of the world, nothing can keep his attention (except for Ginny Weasley, of course, her smiles leave him with stars in his eyes).

This week it’s Sophie Roper, a pretty Gryffindor girl. She’s tall, almost taller than Harry (he had a growth spurt this past summer, just a couple inches). She’s got this beautiful blonde hair, always tied back, the few stray strands framing her usually smiling face.

“Harry! Harry!” She’s chasing him through the hall, waving his forgotten glasses in the air. He spins around and sees the girl a few feet away from him, out of breath.

“Aren’t you on the quidditch team?” he teases, “out of breath already?”

She quirks a smile at him, laughing, “I’ve just gone through _rigorous_ exercise,” and winks at him. The two teens burst into laughter as the rest of the hall watches them laugh.

Harry approaches the girl and grabs his glasses, setting them on his nose, “this is the… second time I’ve forgotten them?”

She nods and smiles, “I guess I leave you _preoccupied,”_ and giggles again.

“Well, I’ve got to get to Slughorn’s classroom. Thanks for everything!”

Sophie reaches for him, but he dodges quickly and jogs off. She watches after, and _cannot_ understand what she’d said wrong to lose his interest in the moment. Maybe it was the meds from the hospital wing? maybe.

*** * ***

“Professor Slughorn, you needed something…?” Harry trails off as he sees Malfoy perched on a wooden stool.

“What?” Harry asks, confused. Malfoy refuses to look at him, his nose stained a pretty, _ugly,_ Harry thinks, red.

“You need potions tutoring, Harry,” Slughorn says bluntly and glances at Malfoy, “and Malfoy here is one of our better students. He’ll tutor you.”

“I-, I’m not sure that’s needed,” Harry intervenes, a little perturbed by the thought of learning from Malfoy.

“Harry, there’s truly nothing you can do. Malfoy here has offered to tutor you, and I am happy to have you learn,” Slughorn advises gently.

Harry looks back and forth, and back and forth between the two, and groans in defeat.

“Alright fine. Let’s go Malfoy,” Harry waves his hand at the door behind and leaves the room, sighing all the way through. Malfoy follows, albeit with a little less sighing.

“Potter. You, you’re sure about this, right?” Malfoy asks, a little taken aback at the easiness in which Harry had agreed.

Harry glances back at him, looking at the older teen. He looked worried and out-of-sorts, his nose still red. Harry avoids the question.

“Your nose. It’s red,” he says, staring at Malfoy’s face.

Malfoy pulls a face, “what an observation. I had no idea,” he spits, already tired of Harry’s company.

Harry cocks his head to the side, “you volunteered for this Malfoy, you don’t have to be such an arse about it.”

Malfoy doesn’t deign Harry with an answer, instead choosing to walk away, his boots clacking as they hit the floor. Harry watches him go, bewildered and confused at the exchange. Everything about Malfoy was confusing now. Ron had broken his nose, by accident, in Defense, and there hadn’t been a single outburst or dramatization, and now? he volunteered to tutor harry? It was beyond strange.

“When’s our first session?” Harry calls at Malfoy’s back but doesn’t receive an answer. Jogging after Malfoy, Harry repeats himself, “when?”

Malfoy shoots him a dirty look, “Thursday, 8 pm, at the library. Don’t be late,” and Malfoy hurries up his walking, disappearing around the corner, leaving Harry behind.

“Alright then. The library for potions tutoring. Let’s see how this goes,” Harry mutters to himself, prepared to complain to Ron and Hermione in the next few minutes.


	3. only if you knew how much i liked you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> draco’s vitriol is still a little shocking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and a new one! it took me a little longer to write because i lost the thread, but that's alright! it's here. if u left a comment, that would make my day :)

“Malfoy! I asked you to stay behind today,” Vargas orders from his desk, not glancing up from grading papers. Pansy gives Draco a frown and continues to pack up her things, Blaise already gone to the baths. Draco slumps his shoulders and approaches Vargas’s desk.

“Hey, Potter, you too, stay,” Vargas says gruffly, finally looking up. Draco’s jaw drops open, intending to state his disapproval of the situation. Vargas holds up his hand.

“Nope, I don’t want to hear it,” he says, “Malfoy, I’m going to be honest with you here. You’re not going to pass your Defense NEWT at the rate you’re going right now.”

“I don’t need the Defense NEWT. It doesn’t matter if I pass or not,” Draco says stubbornly. He hikes his bag further up his shoulder, hand gripped at the strap. 

Vargas stares at Draco for a few seconds, “Malfoy. You’re not seeming to understand. There’s very little choice for you.” Draco stares back, even more confused. 

McGonagall had invited him back to Hogwarts on two conditions: he pass a set number of NEWTS, and he didn’t step a _toe_ out of line. A third condition had been added yesterday; he must tutor Harry Potter. None of the NEWTS she’d listed in their meeting included Defense, and Draco is sure to remind Professor Vargas. 

“Professor, McGonagall never specified that Defense was necessary. I truly don’t think…” 

Vargas holds up a hand and levels Draco with a serious gaze, “I seriously don’t doubt you’re a smart kid. You know your stuff, and it’s obvious you’re scared of this class,” Draco opens his mouth to interrupt, glancing surreptitiously back at Potter, but Vargas shakes his head, cutting off any attempt of Draco’s. 

“You may not need the Defense NEWT to pass eighth year, but I’m sure you’re looking for a competent job after Hogwarts, no?”

Draco nods immediately, “Yes sir,” he hitches his bag even higher, nails digging into the leather. 

“Then you know how important NEWTs are for you. The Wizarding World doesn’t want you, Malfoy. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s the truth. I want you to step into the world with as many resources as I can provide you,” Vargas slams his palm into his desk, causing Draco to flinch back a step. Vargas looks apologetic at the sound but continues, “So, Malfoy, you must pass this NEWT, and Harry, here, is going to teach you.” He looks up at Potter, “aren’t you?” 

Draco spins to face Potter, minutely shaking his head at the younger student. Potter eyes Draco and then Vargas, glancing back and forth before biting his lip and nodding. 

“I’ll do it. Let’s, let’s go Malfoy.” Vargas nods triumphantly, and turns back to grading, an obvious dismissal. Draco lets out an angry groan and stalks out of the room, Potter at his heels. 

“Are you serious?” Draco hisses at Potter immediately after they leave the Defense classroom. Draco can’t believe his luck. He knew he was bad at Defense, and he knew he couldn’t improve, no matter what Potter or Vargas did. Draco had hoped he could coast through the class, scraping by with the worst of marks, and failing the NEWT, but it seemed in vain. 

“Am I serious? You’re tutoring me in Potions, which, by the way, sounds terrifying, and now you’re being an arse about me tutoring _you_?” Potter whispers back, careful to keep his voice down so the surrounding students didn’t hear. 

“I’m not being an _arse_ , I’m just not going to waste my time with you!” Draco snarls. His loud voice attracts the attention of some of the corridor, immediately starting whispers. Draco glances around at the stares, grabs Potter’s arm, and drags him into an empty classroom. Potter’s eyes widen, but allows himself to be taken, stumbling as he goes. 

“Listen Potty,” Draco spits, “I can figure it out myself. I’ll tutor you in Potions, but I don’t want your help.” He scowls at Potter and watches the other boy wrack his brain for a sufficient answer. 

“You’ll… help me. For nothing in return?” 

Draco nods, “Yes, exactly.” 

“That’s hogwash,” Potter narrows his eyes, “This is a two-way street. If you want to tutor _me_ , you’ll have to let me do the same for you.” 

Draco pulls a face and lets out a long sigh. He throws up his hands. 

“Fine. Alright. Friday, 6 pm.” 

“Just a day after the first?” Potter crosses his arms and lifts his brows, openly making fun of Draco’s choice. Draco scoffs and leaves the room, silence following him. It seems a repeat of the day before, Draco leaving Potter behind, fed up with all this conversation with a person he’d never like. Merlin forbid he had a civil conversation with Potter, Draco wasn’t sure what the world would come to.

*** * ***

He doesn’t tell Pansy or Blaise about it. It was embarrassing enough that Potter knew he needed tutoring, but Draco thought he’d never survive the shame of telling his friends. It simply didn’t matter that the two of them had seen him at his worst (crying after multiple nightmares), nor that they’d seen him fail in class, but the fact that _Potter_ has to teach him? That was unacceptable. 

Burying his head in his hands for what feels like the fifth time today, Draco imagines a Potions tutoring class with Potter at the other end of the table. He pulls memories from past Potions lessons and sees Potter blowing both himself, and Draco up. Draco scraps any idea of hands-on potions making. Then he imagines trying to teach Potter the basics, as Draco had learned as a child. He can only see Potter whining and throwing a fit. Scrapped.

This was turning out to be a little harder than expected.

And as Draco was reaching for the last vestiges of his sanity, he hears a quiet shriek and a giggle from one of the bookstacks. There went his sanity. He knows exactly what the students got up to in the Library stacks (excluding himself, of course) and has no want nor need for finding out which student is huddled back there with their partner. Standing, Draco makes for a quick exit, carefully averting his eyes from what he’s sure to find. Unluckily, he hears a gruff voice shush whatever girl made the giggle, and the familiar voice stops him in his tracks. Draco knew all about Harry Potter’s female conquests, but in the stacks? Really? Draco dips his head past the first stack and immediately eyes the couple, pressed up against the dusty History of Magic textbooks. Potter’s face is buried in the girl’s neck, and she arches up, letting out a soft mewling sound, her face recognizable. Draco leaps back, carefully keeping out of sight. Padma Patil claws at Potter’s back, letting out little noises at _whatever_ he was doing. 

“Merlin..” Draco mutters, and creeps away from the back of library, jutting his thumb at Madam Pince to let her know of the fun acts taking place in her library. The strict librarian gives him a tight smile, and hurries off to kick the couple out of the stacks. Pince still hadn’t forgiven him for, well anything, so if Draco has to resort to snitching to win some favor (and some after-hour library time), he regrets nothing. 

Slipping out of the library, Draco heads for the dungeons, his thoughts scrambled by the sight of Potter. He bursts into the Slytherin common room, the eerie quiet of it unsettling him. There is a lone girl in the corner, head buried in some thick tome. Draco doesn’t remember her name. Before Draco even has time to open his mouth, the young girl, who’s a fourth year, Draco’s sure of that much, says, “everyone’s down at the pitch.” 

Draco raises his eyebrows at her and watches as she tunes back into her novel, obviously dismissing the older boy. He’s got no want to go to the Quidditch pitch and find out what’s going on, so he heads up to his dormitory. Being alone wasn’t one of Draco’s favorite activities (having spent too much time alone in the Manor), but the always gurgling water of the Lake, and the churning of the pipes down in the dungeons were a comforting sound, lulling him to sleep.


	4. but i watch your eyes as she walks by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first session...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and another chapter! i’ve got two more in the wings, so the updates should be prompt.
> 
> beta’ed by the lovely [adybou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adybou/pseuds/Adybou)
> 
> leave a kudos or a comment! it would make my day (or my week honestly). <3333

The first tutoring lesson is difficult. Potter comes late, swaggering in with windswept hair and love bites crawling up his neck, fueling the fire sitting in Draco’s chest. He can’t pinpoint the center of his emotions but chalks it up to pure jealousy, jealousy that Potter was able to bounce back from everything and revered by all.

“You’re late.”

Draco's face twists as he watches Potter shrug and fall into the chair beside him, loose-limbed without a care. 

“Sorry. I was… with a friend.” Potter’s ears flush slightly. He'd like to appear nonchalant, but his body seems to give him away. 

Draco hums noncommittally and tosses a potions book at Potter, “get to reading.” 

Potter glances down at the thick tome, back to Draco, and back down, “how am I supposed to learn from this?” he questions, confused. 

“You read,” Draco responds flippantly, and buries himself in his own Potions book, attempting to prepare for the next day’s material. Potter is quiet, and out of the corner of Draco’s eye, he sees the other boy frowning into the book. A few minutes pass, and while Draco’s highlighting sections in his textbook, it seems as if Potter hasn’t read a single word. Draco can hear Potter muttering under his breath, but the other student hasn’t flipped a single page. 

“Why aren’t you reading?” Draco asks, turning towards Potter. 

He looks up at Draco and sighs, “I’m trying. It’s just so boring.” Draco leans over, glancing at the Potions book. There are words spilled across the pages, monotonous and, of course, boring. His shoulders slip down and he waves his wand across the book, and suddenly colors appear on the page. 

“What…” Potter trails off as the book seems to explode with colors and words. Draco bites his lip as he sees his notes splash onto the paper. Each of his highlights, underlined words, doodles, and margin notes are all clear for Potter to see. Draco isn’t sure what prompted him to let Potter see it all, but he imagines it has something to do with the saddened sighs that had been coming from the other student. The guilt Draco felt never decreased, sometimes angry words remedied it, but in this situation, it seemed only giving Potter a nudge in the right direction would ease Draco’s pounding skull. 

“Who’s… where did this come from?” Potter is excitedly flipping through the pages, the fun notes in the margins intriguing him. Draco doesn’t respond, turning back to his own book instead. 

Potter looks at him and looks back down at this potions book, the scribbles reminding him of Snape’s old textbook from sixth year. He says so. 

“You know, Snape had a book like this.” 

“What?” Draco’s head snaps up, and he stares at Potter, jaw askew, “Snape… had a what?”

Potter smiles a little and begins to explain, “Snape had this potions book. I borrowed it for sixth year by accident. And Merlin was that one of the best ideas I had. Shit’s the only reason I passed Potions.” He snorted, “This reminds me of that.” 

Draco stares blankly at Potter. “Severus hated you. How did you get ahold of his book?” 

Looking away, Potter shrugs. “It was an accident, not like he gave it to me.” Draco can’t seem to process what Potter’s telling him. Severus had been an extraordinary potioneer, but annotating a potions-making textbook? And letting it fall into Potter’s hands? 

“Where’s the textbook now?” 

“Not sure. Might’ve burned in,” Potter pauses, “in the Fiendfyre.”

Draco flinches and turns back to his notes. “Read your textbook.” 

Potter stares at Draco for a few seconds and then flips open Draco’s old textbook, a little more intrigued than before. 

Draco’s not sure why he closed down the conversation, but he has a feeling he couldn’t take anymore talk about Severus. Even thinking about his dead godfather made him feel like his emotions were going to snatch his leg and lead him into a downward spiral. He wasn’t sure if it was anger or sadness, or maybe a mix of them both. Anger because Sev had been a spy and never told him and had gone and died alone, or sadness because Sev had been a spy and never told him and had gone and died alone. 

Letting out a shaky breath, Draco refocuses on the book in front of him, circling an ingredient and crossing out the next, listening to Potter breathe as he reads his own textbook. 

“This is still boring,” Potter mutters, and Draco rolls his eyes, ignoring him. 

“Yeah well, no one said learning wasn’t boring,” Draco replies a few moments later, doodling in his book. 

*** * ***

He’s got two hours until Defense tutoring and Draco is nervous. He’s not sure why, but he thinks it’s got something to do with the fact that Draco is so terrible at Defense. Even the thought of raising his stupid (borrowed from his mom) wand, seems to send a wave of nervous energy through his bones. And he knew he’d done a shit job “tutoring” Potter, but he hasn’t been able to muster anything better. Hopefully, Potter would do the same tonight and relieve Draco of any leftover guilt.

“Draco! Why do you look like that?” Pansy said, bounding into his room, Blaise trailing behind, head down untangling some necklace his mother had sent him. 

Draco frowns at his friends, unsure of what to say. Blaise is disinterested, as always, and Pansy has too much interest. 

“I’m tutoring Potter in Potions,” Draco sighs, “and he’s tutoring me in Defense.” 

Pansy lets out a sudden whoop, clapping her hands excitedly until Blaise smacks her arm. 

“Pansy? Seriously?” He hisses, jerking his chin at Draco. Draco stares confusedly at the two of them, as Pansy rolls her eyes and plops down beside Draco on his bed.

“Ignore that,” she says, “so, tell me, how is it going?” Her hands are folded carefully in lap, but the wide smile on her is beyond suspicious. 

Draco narrows his eyes at her, but indulges his friend, “it’s boring. I had him read my potions textbook yesterday…” He’s interrupted by Pansy’s voice. 

“You let him read your textbook?” She cries, “you don’t even let us into that thing!” 

Slumping his shoulders, Draco tilts his head back, facing the ceiling, “yes, well. I’m not exactly sure why I did that.” 

“Aren’t you?” Blaise asks, attention suddenly caught by Draco. “Isn’t he attractive?” 

“What?” Draco says, immediately confused. “No, he’s not. He looks like a drowned rat half the time.” 

Pansy snorts and pats Draco on the shoulder comfortingly. She turns to Blaise, “good job with that. So subtle.” 

Draco’s head is still on Potter, his face floating to the edges of Draco’s mind. _He did look like a rat. Right?_ Shaking his head, Draco focuses on the current situation, suddenly aware of how Blaise and Pansy are manipulating this situation. Both of his best friends are smart, maybe smarter than Draco in a lot of ways, but this time, Draco caught on. 

“You know you’re not slick, right? I know you think I’m obsessed with Potter, but I’m not, you wankers.”

Blaise laughs, and then stands, “I can’t do this. I’m going to ask some other poor sod to untangle this thing.” He shakes his necklace in the air and leaves the room, Draco watching as he leaves. 

Draco falls back on his bed, letting out a deep sigh. “Pansy, I’m so tired. Why are we _here_ ? Vargas told me no one in the wizarding world wants me. And I know he’s right. So why are we in this godforsaken school? I got my _nose_ broken yesterday. How did that even happen?”

Pansy frowns and lays her head beside his, squeezing between Draco and the wall. 

“Well, I’m not sure I can answer that,” she says. “But I know that you’ve enough skills to be alright in the world outside of this dusty castle.” She smiles and bumps his shoulder with hers, “and if you don’t, the Muggle world won’t know what’s about to hit them.” 

Draco nods, not deigning to reply. Sitting up, Pansy leaves a chaste kiss on his forehead, sweeping back his hair. She leaves the room with a sad smile, letting her best friend stew in his own thoughts. 


	5. what a sight for sore eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first defense session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yet another one! enjoy :)  
> leave a comment, maybe a kudos <3
> 
> beta'ed by the always helpful [adybou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adybou/pseuds/Adybou)

“It’s going to be fine ‘Mione, right? It’ll be fine, right?” Harry says, rubbing his palms on his jeans.

Hermione sits up from her reclining position on the couch, letting her book fall into her lap. 

“Didn’t you have Potions with him yesterday?” 

“Yeah.”

“So why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous,” Harry says defensively and pushes Hermione’s legs forward so he can sit at the edge of the couch. “I haven’t taught anyone since the D.A. and, well, I don’t want to do a shit job.” 

Hermione reaches over to pat Harry’s knee, “I’m sure if you can approach a girl that’s not Ginny, you can handle a few hours with Malfoy as your student.” She smiles at Harry and picks her book back up. “Now leave, silly. You’ll be late, and Malfoy will whinge about that for hours.” 

Harry nods at her and stands, “Thanks ‘Mione. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“You’d be dead. Again.” 

“You’re probably right,” Harry says, laughing a little. He waves to her and leaves the common room, waving to a few giggling girls in the corner. They blow him kisses, and he mimes catching them, pressing them to his heart. The girls squeal as he exits the room, and Harry has to hold in another laugh when he hears Hermione’s groan.

*** * ***

“Ok so we’re going to dive straight into just spells,” Harry says, rubbing his palms against his jeans. “I’m sure you know how to wave a wand.”

Malfoy stares at the boy in front of him and nods lightly. 

Harry lifts his wand watching Malfoy as he does so. Malfoy flinches at the wand, and Harry stumbles back a few steps. _Is Malfoy scared of him?_

“You alright?” Harry asks, thrown off by Malfoy’s reaction. 

“Piss off,” Malfoy mutters, and raises his wand at Harry’s face. Coming to a sudden realization, Harry pauses. 

“That’s, that’s not your wand,” he says. Malfoy rolls his eyes and sneers. 

“Of course not. You have mine, tosser.” 

Harry’s eyes widen a little, he’s completely forgotten about the hawthorn wand sitting at the bottom of his trunk. He knows Malfoy doesn’t trust him, and even though the sight of the other student gave him a nauseous feeling, Harry knows he has to return the wand, and fast. 

Holding up his hands, Harry says, “wait here. I’ll be right back!” Malfoy crosses his arms and glares. Harry jogs out of the empty classroom, feet hitting the ground as he goes. 

He slips into the Gryffindor common room, ignoring Hermione’s bewildered look at his return. Harry runs up the stairs and into his dormitory, flapping a hand at Ron, who looks like he’s just woken up from a nap. Throwing open his trunk, Harry sticks his hand inside, searching for the wand. 

“What are you doing?” Ron asks, leaning his head on his headboard, confused.

“Looking for Malfoy’s wand. I never gave it back,” he turns to look at Ron, “can you believe that?” 

Ron snorts, “Of course I can. You used to look at him with disgust every day. At least, until he volunteered to tutor you. That’s strange, by the way. So why would you have given his wand back? And Harry, accio the damn wand, you’re a wizard.”

Harry’s head snaps up, “Right!” He accios, “Draco Malfoy’s wand,” and it comes flying out of the trunk, landing in Harry’s outstretched hand. Nodding, he thanks Ron, ignoring his prior words, and dashes from the room. 

“Got it!” Harry calls, tossing the hawthorn wand at Malfoy. He doesn’t catch it, letting the wand fall onto the floor before him. 

“What?” Harry asks, staring at Malfoy, who looks a little shell shocked. 

Slowly, Malfoy reaches down to pick up the wand, and whispers, “Lumos.” The tip of the wand shines, almost blindingly. A smile breaks across Malfoy’s face, and he holds the wand close, cradling the wood to his chest. 

He glances upward, a look of absolute reverence flooding his face, “thank you.” 

Harry’s eyes widen slightly, and the shy smile on Malfoy is a bit unsettling. Harry immediately wants to get rid of it, feeling more comfortable with a sneer. 

“Alright. So, er, what do you struggle with most during Defense?” Harry questions, his wand hanging loosely in his fingers. 

Malfoy glances off to the side, “Everything,” he mutters. “I can’t even cast a defense spell..”

Harry cocks his head to the side, “I’m sure that’s not true. Let’s see a Protego.” 

Lifting his wand, Malfoy carefully casts the spell, the shield shimmering strongly ahead of him. Within a few seconds, however, it seems to shudder and fall as Malfoy loses confidence in his spell. Harry’s interested. He has Malfoy run through spell after spell, each showing the same strength for a few seconds, and then spectacularly failing, even the offensive spells. 

At the end of it all, Harry’s come to the simple conclusion, “It’s like Neville.” 

“What?” Malfoy spits, a little offended. Even though Harry’s not sure why. Malfoy’s a coward, Neville hasn’t been one for years. But Harry does explain. 

“Neville didn’t have confidence in his spells. You don’t either, Malfoy.” Harry says, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “It’s an easy fix, though. Just practice.”

Malfoy stares at Harry and shrugs, “alright. And you’re helping me?”

Harry nods. “Cast a Protego. I’ll show you mine.” 

And it goes on like this, just as it had before. Malfoy casts a spell, Harry casts the same, and Malfoy tries again, injecting as much power into the spell as he can. Sometimes it goes badly, but sometimes it works. 

At the end of their hour, Malfoy looks close to collapsing, his magic _spent_. Panting, he says, “I think this is the most I’ve ever used magic.” 

“Piss off. No way.”

Malfoy nods violently, “when else would I have? When have _you_?”

Harry pauses, “when I was fighting Voldemort?”

Flinching, Malfoy falls silent, feeling a little stupid. “Right. Right.” 

Harry shrugs, “I think we’re done for the day. See you, see you whenever.” 

Malfoy nods and exits the room first, leaving without a goodbye. Harry doesn’t mind, his head full of cotton after being around Malfoy for this long. He thinks he hates Malfoy... The boy represents everything Harry refuses to be. But deep down, Harry can’t help but wonder if this hatred is due to years of thinking of him as the enemy, the _other side_ . He can’t tell this to Hermione or Ron, their accusing looks from sixth year flooding back. There’s only one person who he imagines would have a competent answer for him. Or at least an answer as to why Malfoy didn’t seem so _hateable_ anymore. 

*** * ***

He finds her surrounded by people, laughing loudly, her hair a mess from a little third-year braiding it. 

“Gin? You got time?” She looks up mid-laugh and gives Harry a wide smile. 

“For you, Harry? Always.” Ginny replies. She waves away the young girls sitting at her feet, a collective groan coming from them. “Shhh. I’ll be back later! Go do some work, I’m sure Slughorn’s assigned you some.” She says, shooing the girls away.

Ginny pats the seat beside her, eyes bright from laughter. Settling down in the seat, Harry leans a head on Ginny’s shoulder, and she wraps an arm around him, their easy embrace a constant in Harry’s year. Even though they’d broken up, Harry can always count on Ginny to be _there_ for him, no questions asked. 

“What’s wrong, you tosser?” Ginny says, ruffling some of Harry’s hair. He lets out a content sigh.

“Malfoy’s not an arse anymore,” Harry groans. “Well, he is, but not all the time. And now I’m tutoring him in Defense, and he’s supposed to be tutoring me in Potions, but he’s not doing a great job. And it’s not an issue for me to be around him _there_ . And I think he’s scared of me, and I had his wand this _whole_ time, and he never said anything, and…” 

Ginny slaps the back of his head, “Get to the point!” She says, laughing a little.

Harry laughs too. He hadn’t meant to go off on a tangent, but it seems that Malfoy brings out something in him. Settling back into Ginny’s arms, he says, “His presence isn’t disgusting anymore. And I’m not sure what to do about that.” 

Ginny almost chokes on her laughter, and she has to push Harry away from her to fully keel over and laugh. And laugh and laugh. “Merlin, Harry. You’re a lost cause. You’re lucky I’m in love with you, or I’d have smacked you long ago.” 

Harry pretends to be shocked, “you _love_ me? Wow.” 

“And there’s the smack.” Ginny gently smacks his cheek, letting out a peal of giggles after. After taking a few, maybe more than a few, deep breaths, Ginny gets a reign on her laughter. “Well, it _has_ been months since everything went down. And I’m sure he’s trying to move on. I can’t see you two being friends, though.”

Harry nods, “me neither. But if I’ve got to be around him for hours, alone, the wanker and I have to be civil, don’t we?” Letting out a dramatic sigh, he flops onto Ginny’s lap. 

“And what would I do without you, my love?” 

She pats his cheek, “You’d sleep with even more girls.” 

Snorting, Harry responds, “not like it stops me now.”

Ginny bursts into more laughter, and so does Harry, the irony of the situation hitting them both. Entangling their fingers, Harry places their hands on his stomach and sighs.“Thanks, Gin.”

She hums, and as Harry drifts off, she calls the girls back, intent on scaring him awake.


	6. brighter than a blue sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> draco has a crisis about casting a patronus & maybe the beginning of an ever greater crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it’s been a while, but i’m here! not fully back, but here’s a slightly longer than chapter than usual to make up for my short absence! 
> 
> beta’ed by [adybou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adybou/pseuds/Adybou)
> 
> leave a comment or a kudos! enjoy <3

The weeks pass, slowly. And every Tuesday and Thursday evening, Harry ends up in a small corner of the library, discussing potions terms with an amiable Malfoy, and on Fridays, extensively practicing spells with him, where Malfoy is exhausted after every tutoring session. 

At some point during these weeks, Malfoy becomes Draco, and Potter, Harry. It may have happened sometime between flaming robes (it’s better not to ask, Mcgonagall definitely didn’t), and an angry fight about using lilies in potions (Draco was adamant that you  _ couldn’t _ and Harry adamant that you  _ could _ ). And during this time, Harry finds himself drifting closer to Ginny, her red hair flaming in his dreams, and her peals of laughter haunting his daydreams. Every other girl in his life is shut out, all the pretty girls of Hogwarts disappointed that Harry Potter seemed off the market once again. 

And after one particularly barbed Potions session in which Harry wished to escape fifteen minutes early to see Ginny (who had her dormitory to herself that night after convincing her roommates to shove off for a few hours), Draco had exploded on him. The vitriol that spilled out of Draco’s mouth that day still shamed him and Harry took it all personally. He’d avoided Draco for days after the event, and Draco had ended up having to search him out to apologize profusely. 

Now, they were on thin ice, each word between them carefully chosen in order to prevent the other from getting hurt. 

“Okay, a Patronus isn’t as difficult as you think,” Harry says, hands spread wide, explaining how to cast a corporeal one. 

Draco rolls his eyes, and looks off to the side, grumbling. 

“Pay  _ attention _ !” Snapping his fingers, Harry’s frustration rises. “You’ve  _ got _ to get this if you’re going to pass the Newt!”

Suddenly raising his wand, Draco shouts, “Expecto Patronum!” And not even a  _ wisp _ comes from his wand. 

Harry stares. “Are you thinking of a happy memory?” 

Rolling his eyes, Draco spits, “of course I am. What else would I be thinking about?” 

Harry shrugs, and casts the spell. He concentrates his mind on the memory of the Weasleys, plus Hermione, all laughing at the dinner table last summer. “Expecto Patronum!” 

His stag bursts from his wand, so bright that Draco stumbles a few steps backward. Trotting around the room once, the stag dissipates. 

“See,” Harry thrusts his hand at the place where the stag disappeared, “not so hard.” 

Silence. 

Then Draco pushes past Harry, grumbling as he goes. Harry’s confused. He’s not sure what he did to wrong Draco, and although it takes, quite frankly, every  _ kind _ bone in his body, he grabs Draco’s arm. 

“Hey, what’s the issue here?” Harry asks, not unkindly. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Draco says, shaking his head, but he’s stopped, standing still while facing the doorway.

Harry had never been good with  _ talking  _ to people. He’d gained a good amount of experience from all the girls, and after these weeks being around Draco, it seemed he’d have a better understanding, but still, Harry is afraid of getting it wrong. 

He retracts his hand from Draco’s shoulder, and shrugs, “Alright. Well we can do this another day.” Draco flinches and glances back at Harry. Harry isn't even looking at Draco anymore, attention moved on. 

Draco leaves, and Harry isn’t bothered. It’s Draco Malfoy, who would be? 

*** * ***

“I can’t cast a Patronus,” Draco says suddenly. Pansy looks up at him confusedly. 

“Neither can I.” She shrugs and goes back to flipping through her romance novel. 

Draco stares at her. He knows that they haven’t done Patronuses in Defense, but for some reason, he’d got it into his mind that everyone  _ but _ him could produce one. 

“I want to,” Draco presses. 

Pansy groans lightly, “I’m  _ reading _ , Draco. Go ask Potter to help you.” 

Draco narrows his eyes at her, and then slumps down on the couch. He would like to ask Harry, but he’d just shrugged off his help yesterday, and wouldn’t it be strange to go back? 

“What?” Pansy asks tiredly. “Why do you look like that?” 

Rolling his eyes at her, Draco lets out a huff. “Harry’s supposed to be teaching me how to cast a Patronus.” 

Pansy looks at him expectantly. 

He continues, “And I walked out.” Draco swallows, “I couldn’t do it, Pansy. I couldn’t think of one damn happy memory strong enough. And I don’t want Harry to know that,” he whispers at the end. 

“Harry? When did  _ that _ happen?” Pansy asks, a laugh growing in her chest. 

Draco looks away, cheeks a little red, “two weeks ago. He asked me to.”

“Did he now?” Pansy teased, smiling. “If he wanted you to call him  _ Harry _ , well I don’t know what you’re nervous about.”

Draco groans quietly.  “You’re no _help_.”

She lets out a sharp bark of laughter, “then ask your  _ Harry _ !” Smiling at him, Pansy pokes him with her finger, and turns back to her novel.

He stands slowly, twirling his wand between his fingers. Making a decision, he flicks Pansy, “alright, I’ll find him.

Draco leaves the Slytherin common room, swinging a thick robe over his shoulders. It’s starting to get cold out, but he has a feeling that’s where Harry will be. 

Walking through the halls, Draco gets multiple dirty looks, even a shove from a girl he’s  _ sure _ was sleeping with Harry. 

He makes his way towards the Gryffindor Common room (he’s not sure what he’ll do outside that room, but it’s a start). On the way, he hears a commotion near the Great Hall doors — a couple of second years arguing— and turns to look, attention diverted from the path in front of him.

He manages to bump into some girl, her bright red hair flicking into his eyes as he falls. They both go tumbling to the floor, his wand rolling out of his fingertips, and her books scattered on the floor. Looking up, Draco realizes it’s the Girl Weasley. 

“So sorry, Weasley.” Draco says hesitantly, lifting himself from the ground. Weasley shoots him an easy smile, her bright eyes crinkling in amusement. She gathers her books and stands, figure relaxed. 

“It’s all good, Draco. And please, call me Ginny. I think we’ve both been through enough to call each other by our first names.” 

Draco drops his jaw a little, eyes widening at Ginny Weasley’s easy stance, and her kind smile. He,he hadn’t expected Weasley, Ginny, to be like this — rational. He shakes his head a little, he’s still got to find Harry, to ask him, to beg him, to teach him how to cast a damn patronus. Against all rational thought, Draco asks Ginny.

“Do you know where Harry is?” 

She raises a single eyebrow, and nods, “Yes.” 

Draco presses forward a little, voice firm, “where is he?” 

A smile curls on Ginny’s lips, but it’s not malicious at all. She easily gives Harry’s location — the courtyard — and gives Draco a little shove as she leaves. 

“It was nice to finally have a conversation with you, Draco.”

“Thank you,” and then with slight hesitation, “Ginny.” She lets out a loud laugh, and walks away, still giggling. Draco huffs and goes to find Harry, not sure what exactly he’s going to ask him, but an end goal in mind.

Draco sees Harry lounging on his stomach in the grass, his robes shed on the ground beside him, and muggle shirt loose. His chin is propped up in the palm of his left hand, and every few minutes he flips the page of whatever textbook he’s reading. Because luck seems to be on Draco’s side at this moment, there is no one near Harry, not a single pesky Gryfindor.

“Harry!” Draco calls, wincing when his voice breaks the serene silence. The other boy glances upwards, his face blank with indifference. “I need a favor,” Draco asks, his voice a little breathy in nervousness. 

“What?” Harry says, “What happened?”

“Teach me. Teach me how to cast a Patronus.” 

Harry tilts his head just slightly to the right. “I already offered. We’ve got a session next week. And you could’ve asked me during potions on Tuesday.” 

“I want to do it now,” Draco explains, and then tucks his hands behind him, nervous again. He knows Harry won’t say no. But it’s a strange thing to be asking Harry for help, especially voluntarily. Thinking back a few years, even a few months, the conversation between them was unfathomable.

Harry narrows his eyes at Draco, but agrees, pulling himself from the ground. The rest of the day passes excruciatingly slow. They are both holed up in an abandoned classroom, this one not as clean as the usual, as Harry tries to get Draco to think of some happy memory. 

“With your parents?”

Draco frowns, “I was happy as a kid. I remember being happy. But I cannot, Merlin, pinpoint an exact time.” 

Harry grasps at straws, “With Blaise? Pansy?”

Furrowing his brows, Draco thinks of when Pansy came over to Malfoy Manor, back in their fourth year. She’d got on splendidly with Mother, the two of them whispering suspiciously in a corner together before the night ended. That day had been wonderful, maybe it could work. He concentrated, eyes closed and focused on an image of Pansy throwing her head back and laughing, with Mother smiling at him fondly. 

“Expecto Patronum!” Draco cries, eyes opening to see if anything, after all these hours of trying, of Harry hovering near him, happened. 

He sees white mist hovering in front of him, and then fading quickly. Draco is immediately disappointed, but hears a surprising whoop escape from Harry. 

“Draco! You did it!” Harry exclaims, and grabs Draco by the shoulders, pulling him into a hug that turns awkward as soon as Draco’s face is directly in front of Harry. Draco stares, frozen still, as Harry’s grip on his arm tightens just slightly. “Sorry, shit!” Harry releases his grip on Draco, and Draco stumbles backwards, his cheeks flaming. 

“It’s fine.” Draco looks off the side, swallowing. Harry seems a little embarrassed too, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yeah. It’s fine,” Harry echoes, staring at Draco. Draco averts his eyes, and kicks his foot lightly. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do more today,” he says, his magic exhausted, and his head throbbing.

Harry nods mutely, still staring intently at Draco’s face. 

“Is there… something on my face?” Draco asks, a little worried. Harry shakes his head quickly, and looks away. 

Draco shrugs, and turns to leave, but Harry’s hand suddenly grips his forearm. “Good job today,” Harry says softly, and Draco flinches. He looks at Harry, grey eyes into green ones, and sees only kindness.

“Thank you,” Draco murmurs, and extracts himself from Harry’s space. He spins around and walks out the door, his forearm flaming from where Harry touched it.

He goes back to his dorm, locks the door, climbs under the sheets and, after mere moments of hesitation, tugs himself off to the image of Harry’s lips inches from his own, shame coiling in his belly. 

**Author's Note:**

> [things worth knowing by femme and noeon ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12922518/chapters/29528763)


End file.
